A kiss on the cheek from my now ex-best friend.
A kiss on the lips from my now ex-lover.
A kiss in the air from an innocent bystander.
A kiss on my fingertips as I wave them goodbye.
I touch the letter your lover sent before you left. I can feel the heat, the sparks on my cool fingers. Perhaps, then, you were right. Heat cancels all promises and trust.
I experiment on you when you are sleeping. Gently I squeeze your earlobe. Your breath does not speed or falter. Rise. Fall.
Finger-soft I stroke the almost hair on the nape of your neck. Your shoulders twitch and settle. Relax now.
My hand rests on the curve of your stomach. Slowly I reach through your skin and up, behind your ribs. My fingers find your soul and, softly again, I fold over a silver corner. The edges blacken and stick. You will never know why you feel tarnished on days the sun shines.
The washing up done, Tina drew a heart on the steamed up kitchen window. Her rubber glove squeaked as she wrote her lover’s name. A vegetable knife glinted from the bottom of the sink. Tina rinsed it and stared at the heart and the name. Then she opened the window so that the steam, and the name, disappeared. It was gone. Until Tina’s husband did the steamy washing up the next day.
http://www.paragraphplanet.com 25 November 2013